


From the Queen of Hearts

by captainofthegreenpeas



Category: 16th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, Original Work
Genre: 1536? Cancelled., AS! YOU! SHOULD! BE!, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Chaotic Renaissance Energy, F/F, Historically accurate lesbophobia can't come to the phone right now, It's like Big Dick Energy only more cultured and more underhanded, Renaissance Era, Romantic Comedy, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Why? Oh! Cause she dead!, historical accuracy? i don't know her, you're here for adorable lesbians, you're not here for historical accuracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25281418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainofthegreenpeas/pseuds/captainofthegreenpeas
Summary: Anne Boleyn is head-over-heels for Jane, her brother's wife. The feeling is mutual, but the lovers are as clueless as they are smitten. Chaotic siblings George and Mary Boleyn will stop at absolutely nothing to get the pair together. Wacky hijinks ensue.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Jane Parker Boleyn Lady Rochford
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	From the Queen of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> as far as i know, sketching wasn't an aristocratic feminine hobby until much later but ehhhhh i don't care Barbara this is some summer ren faire fun.

“This is a dire situation,” George announced. “All Christendom rests on a knife’s edge. We are either on the cusp of exquisite victory, or torturous, sorrowful defeat.” He pointed out of the window and down into the gardens. “We have got to get those girls together.”

“Agreed,” Mary replied. “I am _so_ tired of the pair of them just… dancing around it all the time. It’s like blind man’s bluff, only with _both_ of them blindfolded, so they’re just stumbling around, falling over each other without realising.”

“Mary, you’re _always_ tired. “

“All the more reason for them to get together. Take a weight off my shoulders. Also, I need to plan their wedding outfits. I’m thinking black silk and white pearls for Jane, to match Anne’s eyes, and red velvet embroidered with gold thread for Anne, to match Jane’s hair. Or perhaps blue satin, instead? No, red is better for Anne than blue. Oh, they’ll complement each other so well!”

“They can’t marry, you know that.”

“Confine your technicalities to the law courts, Lord Rochford. Beauty transcends the rules.”

They batted plans back and forth over the next hour. “No, George,” Mary said more than once, “We don’t have the budget to do that.” Still, the planning was fun in and of itself. The possibility of setting up Jane and Anne filled George with warmth. He liked Jane, she was a natural part of their group, but he liked her in the same way he liked Anne and Mary. No wife could get on better with his beloved family, and she had done so much to make their marriage (and his poetry) work out, (knowing that Jesus Christ would always be George’s true love) that he felt he owed her this assistance, even if she never knew about it, and could therefore never thank him for it. Her secret wingman. Her guardian Cupid. Besides, he enjoyed entertaining beautiful ladies every once in a while, so why shouldn’t his wife have England’s most charming woman for herself? Nothing but the best for Lady Rochford! Unlike Mary, George Boleyn was not one of Nature’s matchmakers. Yet the prospect of two of his favourite people in the world embracing each other as soulmates was simply irresistible. He imagined Jesus must have felt the same way about the women He knew.

The siblings had considered a masque of some kind, early on in their speculations: Jane and Anne would be cast as lovers, and thus be compelled to make romantic speeches to each other. (Mary and George would, of course, make sure said lovers’ scenes would be _thoroughly_ rehearsed.) Eventually, the two dismissed the idea on the grounds that the blind fools would make no definite romantic progress with it. The ladies would express their feelings through the masque, but excuse the other’s declarations of passion as being, simply, very good acting.

Because after all, that was the main obstacle. They could hurl hints at each other like trebuchets hurling boulders, but the hints would soar and miss the mark completely. It was so obvious to George that Jane desired Anne. When she wasn’t namedropping dearest Anne, darling Anne, she was drawing pictures in her sketchbook. George would take a look out of polite- nosy- polite interest, and ask about the endless sketches of well-dressed noblewomen.

“They’re dress designs for my seamstress,” Jane would say by way of excuse, or sometimes: “it’s a costume for a masque.” It just so happened that all of the masquing ladies had black hair and dark eyes. Hmm.

It was equally obvious to Mary that Anne desired Jane. Anne had been in a fault-finding mood lately. Madge Shelton was too loud, Jane Seymour was too quiet. If Jane Boleyn, however, was loud, she was boisterous and good fun. If Jane was quiet, that was proof of her tact, serenity, discretion. “You should all be more like Lady Rochford, girls. Model your conduct after her excellence.” When her ladies were too opinionated, Anne would heave world-weary sighs. If Jane expressed a similar opinion—“Excellent point, Jane.” There were endless reasons for Anne and Jane to touch. Jane will comb my hair, Jane will straighten my hood, Jane will pass me my lute, are my pearls tangled, Jane? When Anne was in a blazing temper, ranting about Cromwell, Catherine of Aragon, the Pope, Chapuys, Princess Mary, the Pope, the Duke of Norfolk, Cardinal Wolsey, the Pope, and Cardinal Campeggio, Jane strolled into the lion’s den and paid the storm no mind.

The germ of the plan was George’s, when he suddenly remembered the Fates and their strings of life. Mary seized on the idea when she realised that it would give her the chance to pair up not only Jane and Anne but _every single person at court_. The entertainment was called The Web of Fate. Each person at court would be assigned a scarlet thread, which they would follow through the intricate overlapping maze of threads until they found their ‘fated sweetheart’ coming from the opposite end of the same thread. Flirting and dancing would then ensue.

At first, the courtiers were delighted. George and Mary silently congratulated each other with meaningfully smug looks, daydreaming about the celebratory after-party. Alas, crossed wires led to disaster. Literally. Anne found herself paired with Mark Smeaton. Mark was happy, she was not. Jane found herself matched with George, yet she was clearly hurt when she saw the look of alarm on her husband’s face. Mary found herself paired with Thomas Cromwell, which confused both of them. Meanwhile, the shy maiden whom Mary had intended for Cromwell found herself paired with the equally shy William Stafford. Thomas More and John Fisher were matched, but they both shrugged as if to say “eh, why not?” Fortunately, the king saw the funny side of the whole mess. When he saw that the person on the other end of his fate-thread was Charles Brandon, the pair of them laughed themselves hoarse, embraced and slapped each other on the back, calling it all a splendid joke.

* * *

“The plan was too complicated,” George concluded the next day, nursing a defeat-induced hangover with Mary. “We fell because of pride, and isn’t that always the way? We were drunk on the power of matchmaking, it’s heady stuff. “

“Too many people involved,” Mary agreed. _But I_ will _pair up all of my favourite lovers before I die, so help me God!_ She thought.

They exchanged more ideas. George thought about using a hunt to push the two together, but that plan was quickly scuppered. Sharp pointy objects should not be involved in any plan that Fortune could wreak havoc with- and Fortune had certainly wreaked a lot of havoc so far.

“Here’s the plan,” he finally announced. “We steal something from Jane, and something from Anne. We hide the objects in a secluded bower, the most romantic in the palace grounds. “Where is it?” they say to us, separately. “Oh no!” we reply. “I accidentally borrowed it without asking you, and I’ve gone and left it in this particular bower, in the palace grounds.” “Idiot,” they say to us, separately. They go, at the same time, to collect their lost property. Wouldn’t you know it, they just happen to bump into each other, and there’s a bunch of mistletoe above their heads, what are the odds? Then they’ll simply _have_ to kiss.”

“That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard. Let’s do it.”

* * *

The desperate plan fell apart almost immediately.

“George, where’s my handkerchief?”

“In the second bower, in the palace grounds.”

“What, in the name of Saint Anthony, is it doing there?”

“I… I was reading in the grounds and…uh…. I needed a bookmark.”

“So you used my handkerchief?”

“Yes.”

“Without asking me?”

“Also yes.”

Jane shook her head. “Well, I don’t need it immediately. I’ll fetch it later, when I go to play bowls.”

“Actually, why don’t you fetch it now? It’s a lovely day.”

“I have my embroidery to finish.”

“But the grounds are looking very-“

“ _Later_. Besides, shouldn’t you be working on your translations? Darling Anne, bless her, is not the most patient of readers. ” George had completely forgotten about that.

* * *

Mary had no more luck.

“Where’s my lute?”

“Oh!” Mary smacked her hand to her forehead. “I took it outside to accompany the birdsong this morning and I left it in the second bower in the grounds.”

“Acompany the birds? When did you become a milksop, Mary? Madge, you know where that bower is, go and fetch it.”

“Must I?” Madge whined, but she fetched it.

The crowning jewel of the fiasco was that the mistletoe wasn’t even there. A passing gardener saw it, grumbled about the damn parasites ruining the royal trees, and removed it.

“Clearly, we did not plan the spontaneity well enough. “ George mumbled behind his hands, as the two of them loitered in the second bower, observing the bitter site of their defeat.

A flash of inspiration finally came to Mary during chapel, as swift as a lightning bolt from God. It all came down to timing, she realised. When could Jane and Anne be guaranteed to receive messages at the same time? When they both had to look at particular objects. When would they both be guaranteed to look at particular objects? When they opened their prayer books to pray. That would be the way to arrange a romantic tete a tete.

Later that night, once Jane was sound asleep, George carefully removed the Queen of Hearts card from the deck. With all the precision of a painter of miniatures, he gave the queen black eyes and black hair. MIDNIGHT he printed on the back to obscure the tell-tale signs of his handwriting. KNOT GARDEN. At the same time, Mary removed the Queen of Spades card from the deck. With a quill pen, she doodled a tiny white falcon perching on the outstretched arm of the queen, and inscribed CONSTANCY along the line of the queen’s hood. MIDNIGHT she printed on the back. KNOT GARDEN. Each love token was then placed at the same page of the two prayer books: opposite the illuminated pictures of Naomi and Ruth.

* * *

The next day, Mary concealed her smile as the lovers opened their prayer books. The two love tokens were found, discreetly read, and matching blushes rose in two faces. At the after dinner dancing, Anne excused herself. She needed fresh air, she had a headache. Her sister-in-law could chaperone her. When the pair arrived at the knot garden, Mary and George were hidden behind a topiary hedge.

Seeing Anne rest her head on Jane’s shoulder, their arms around each other’s waists, the two siblings knew they could finally crown themselves with matchmaking laurels. The two lovebirds, usually so talkative, simply sighed, interrupting their own sighs with laughter. When the big kiss happened, Mary muffled her squeal of excitement with her sleeve and George beamed. The two of them slipped out of the knot garden to give the ladies some privacy, and reminded themselves to quietly buy a new deck of playing cards.


End file.
